


The Little Death

by CreepyLittleLullaby



Series: Deviant Potter Collection [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Dark Harry Potter, Harry Potter Has a Twin, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, James Potter Bashing, James Potter Lives, Kinda, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Other, Slytherin Harry Potter, Time Travel Fix-It, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), Young Harry Potter, death raises harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29575632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreepyLittleLullaby/pseuds/CreepyLittleLullaby
Summary: The second. The very second, Harry became his. His soul gave up. The struggles being too much and too much thought of others and not enough on his own well-being. The soul that should have survived and burned like a glorious inferno for ages to come was sputtering in his grasp and Harry was not fighting.He was letting go.No.No, this wasn’t happening.Not to Harry.H e w o u l d n t l e t i t h a p p e n
Relationships: Death & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Series: Deviant Potter Collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2212584
Comments: 24
Kudos: 243





	1. Prolouge

Death watched.

He’d watched for centuries, but he’d watched especially close to this time line when a boy with raven hair and eyes of the killing curse closed his hands around a cloak of ethereal silver. It wasn’t supposed to be especially interesting, the Potter’s had custody of one of his Hallows for years. This Potter didn’t even get to keep the cloak as his birthright, the right being taken by his brother. The child raised by the Potter Lord. Yet, it was those eyes, bright green. And the fact that the boy reeked of Death already.

It made him pay attention.

Years, he watched the boy taste death. At the hands of manipulations, venom, the meaty fists of the guardians meant to be the ones to love him. Abandoned by the parent meant to love him. Hated by his other half. Blood wards that bound him like chains, rather than swaddling him in safety as they should have. Fight to survive, fight to live, even when he knew, in the boy’s heart, he’d much rather be dead and loved perhaps by the mother who died to save him. Then alive and reviled by those who condemned him to suffering.

For the first time in centuries, Death longed to touch without killing. Wanted to feel warm skin against his chest and feel the breath of the innocent slow and safe in his grasp. It was with longing that he held one soul in his hands many times, and let it slip away back into the earth as Fate dictated. The boy was not his.

He hadn’t known why, however. The eyes and taste of death should not have been enough to keep his attentions for so long. Much less years. Until the night on the Astronomy Tower. The manipulator faked his death, and in the duels and throes of the night where one didn’t have time to think, to breath, to comprehend. Death watched as a second Hallow swore loyalty to those death green eyes.

And he understood.

Harry would one day be his.

Not in the way everyone eventually was either.

Still, Death was content to watch and wait. Mourning his suffering and preparing for a long and happy life after the battle was done. When the prophecy was fulfilled either by his little one or the other twin. The disgusting sack of humanity and entitlement he was. Soon it would be when his Harry was ready to simply rest and exist peacefully for the rest of time. Following whims, finding purpose, perhaps finding pieces of the childhood he never got to live. Leave behind the ones who left him and find Life.

But no.

The second. The very second, Harry became his. His soul gave up. The struggles being too much and too much thought of others and not enough on his own well-being. The soul that should have survived and burned like a glorious inferno for ages to come was sputtering in his grasp and Harry was not fighting.

He was letting go.

No.

No, this wasn’t happening.

Not to Harry.

This time he didn’t have to listen to anyone. The second Harry’s hand even brushed the third and final gift to mortals he’d fallen directly into Death’s domain. Fate had no more custody, no more than she had over any other human, perhaps even less.

With a desperation that Death hadn’t known he could possess he grabbed that slowly dying light and threw himself as far backwards as he could. Years melting and reversing before his eyes until he was forced to stop. He wanted to go to the beginning, but he couldn’t, Harry was too fragile to survive going back that far. Death would be unable to spare him all his suffering.

However, Master of Death was a title that stuck to the soul. Harry in this timeline was now forever his Master. Heir to his mortal throne in the Peverell family. It would not belong to another sickening Potter from whence on. Past, present, or future. Softly, he let Harry’s soul slip back into the world.

He would not remember the future, not consciously. Though nightmares maybe a problem for years to come, but those were already going to be a battle for an abused child. It would be something they tackled together.

Now, he would get what he’d always wanted.

Fate, the manipulator, and the rest of the world be damned.


	2. Bringing his Son Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New update! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> You want to see something? Want to make your opinion known? Feel free to comment questions, ideas, and concerns!

The street was quiet, the sun was shining brilliantly in the summer heat. Clear blue skies and a soft breeze that helped cool the skin. It would be a perfect day for his baby to run around in the yard. Later. Death stood on the curb, his feet stuck to the ground. The day was here. One he hadn’t been sure he would ever see with his Harry still in the land of the living. He’d torn apart time and would be absolutely destroying Fate’s first plans. Harry’s birth family could go fuck themselves however, Wizarding Britain as a whole could doom themselves for as far as he cared. He had the means to protect his Master, and he had an eternity to coddle his little one and make up for the affection he was so desperately starved of.

Finally, Harry would be safe. He’d get to hold more than his soul.

Petty blood wards did nothing against him. They warded against dark intent and direct murder, but they also warded against safety. In this house, Harry would also taste the hint of death on his tongue. Clinging to the brink of life and death endlessly.

No one was home. No one except a single child with the darkest hair and big green eyes in the cupboard under the stairs. He knocked at the small locked door gently, and unhooked the lock. Letting the door slowly swing open.

His heart had long since hardened itself to suffering. He’d taken souls from various hells without batting an eye. Murders, prisons, war zones, children, women, and men alike. But Life with those all seeing and fond eyes had been right. It was different once you had a child.

Once it was your child.

What was once bouncy and curly hair was greased and matted down with dirt and a heavy amount of dried blood. His eyes were transparent and closed; his breathing left his small frame in wheezes and shudders. Pale skin painted like a modernist abstract watercolor of black, purple, and yellow splotches. Death pressed a cold hand against his cheek. The skin was inflamed and feverish, a nasty infection was beginning to set in, or pneumonia, he wasn’t sure.

The boy’s eyes struggled open at the touch, leading to a sharp inhale. Death however was quick to grab the boy’s head to prevent the violent flinch that would certainly aggravate his injuries. “Easy Harry. That’s a good child, it’s okay. It’s time to go home Harry. Can you grab onto me? Would that be okay?”

Warily, but used to following orders the child blearily wobbled up. Hissing as his leg shifted, revealing a limb that was twisted unnaturally. Broken. Anger and fury like ice chips growing into spikes in his chest. Clawing and _ripping and tearing and he was going to claw and rip and tear them into tiny pieces the monsters that touched his child._

Later.

“No, stop for a moment. You shouldn’t put weight on that leg little one. May I carry you?” The boy looked at him nervously, biting his fingers until Death gently pulled them out of his mouth. The child lifting his arms and allowing himself to be cradled into the entity’s chest without much of a fuss at all. “Such a good boy, my brave baby boy. This will feel a bit odd, close your eyes for me.”

Green doe eyes were staring at his, wide with awe. The boy had never been called good once in his life, the taste of praise leaving him giddy and in wonderment at the man holding him. Death patiently smiled and nudged the boy to tuck his head into the crook of his neck. One hand with long and deathly pale fingers holding his head steady and

Disappeared.

Fading back into existence, his little one shuddered in his arms. Skin raised with goosebumps and chilled to the touch. Death wrapped his cloak around Harry a bit tighter and walked up to the cozy cottage they’d materialized in front of.

It was small, but homely. It had been more than enough for Death in the centuries he’d lived. A small reprieve. The house sat just at the coastline to the beach, waves lapping at soft sands. The building itself was cream colored, with a living room that bleed into the kitchen and dining room in an open floor plan. There was a set of stairs that led up to a nice bathroom and three bedrooms. One for him, a guest room and the room that would soon be his little one’s. Downstairs lay a potions lab and a ritual room for his own purposes and homeschooling now he supposed. The backyard had a modest garden and a large yard for his baby to play in, connecting to a magical and perfectly safe treeline/forest.

It was also warded to hell and back, unplottable, under a fidelus charm with Life as the secret keeper. An army could destroy the entire island of Britain and they would still be unseen, standing in the ashes safe and sound.

Perfect to raise a child in.

And if he needed another room or even just more room, he’d simply create the space needed. Magic was a powerful and beautiful thing.

“Who? Where?”

“I’m Mortem little one. This is your new home, I’m sure you’ll love to explore it later. Perhaps we’ll go and hunt some sea shells on the beach. Or maybe you’d like to play in the backyard… I’m afraid I don’t have much for a child yet. I decided your safety would come first, then we’d get your furniture and other necessities.” The boy didn’t speak again, letting him walk into the door and walk straight upstairs to the bathroom. He set the child onto the counter and swiftly got to work. Magic flowing over Harry’s skin, buzzing with the child’s own overflowing magic.

No binds or compulsions, that had been later in life. His leg was nearly shattered however, bruises and welts lining his entire torso and he was extremely dehydrated and malnourished. Death felt

Empty. Rage. Scared. Sad. Disgusted. _INFURIATED_

Harry watched him with guarded eyes as he pulled out a bruise balm from a drawer and methodically got to work. The raven boy sighing and gasping with amazement as the second the cool (lotion?) touched his skin all the pain faded away. Harry clutched at the man’s arms and clenched his eyes shut when his hands cradled his broken leg. The child gasped and yelped when the pain flared, and he felt his bones shifting until he felt… nothing.

Peeking his eyes open, Harry marveled as his leg looked perfect. There was no swelling, or soreness, and Harry could wiggle his toes without a problem. Which he did so, giggling madly was the nice man grabbed the offending toes and shook them teasingly. Releasing them easily enough, Death leaned in a bit closer and smiled.

“You were such a good boy Harry. Do you know what I think that calls for?” The child cocked his head cutely.

“What?”

Swiftly, he was able to conjure a strawberry lolly into his hand. His baby flinched minutely but calmed quickly and scooting closer before grinning widely. Looking up at him and snatching the treat at his encouraging nod. Shoving the treat into his mouth quite happily.

Healed up and sucking on a lollipop, Harry looked the part of a happy scrappy looking toddler. Still dirty with dried blood caking some areas of his skin, and probably more unseen under his clothes. Much too small to be a six year old however… that would take some time to heal as well as the head injury. The area was too delicate for Death to heal on his own and trust himself to do it right. Malnutrition wasn’t a quick fix either, it would be time and the ability to procure needed care.

As an immortal and powerful being with no companion for centuries, he had both in spades. Harry would also be the only one in the line of his attentions as well.

“I know your head still hurts a bit, but I can’t do anything more for that right now my love. But the rest of your owies are gone right?” The child squirmed a bit, the hand not clutching his candy stick patting various areas of his body until he gave a vigorous nod and a toothy grin. Death smothered his own amused chuckle at his son’s antics. “Perfect, now, I think it’s time for a bath. How does that sound?”

He was met with dead silence, the enthusiasm his baby had sported dying quickly and silently as he looked very scared suddenly. Oh. They couldn’t have ruined bath time could they have? Of course they had _the no good sacks of flesh, when he gave his son his own dog he was going to set the thing on his relatives so he knew who was n o t w e l c o m e._

“Are you sure? I think there will be some bubbles and even a rubber duck Harry! And if you continue being brave, you’ll get what good and clean little boys get.” The little one’s eyebrows furrowed, his body relaxing a bit as he squinted with thought and confusion. Death scooped up the child and poked at his sides until the boy squealed and giggled. “Do you know Harry?!”

“No! No! Mortem!”

“I say we find out.”

Death let him finish his candy before peeling off layer from layer until he was bare. Death took off Harry’s glasses and put them on the counter gently, filling up the tub with warm water with barely a flick of his wrists. Harry tensed up again when the bath came into his line of sight. It broke Death’s heart a bit when Harry whimpered and clung to him tighter as he began to lower him into the water. Trying to soothe him with muttered soft nonsense. The raven’s eyes were scrunched closed as he slipped fully into the water before they opened curiously at the sensation of warmth surrounding him.

All he could remember were ice cold baths where Auntie held his head underneath the water until everything went fuzzy. And even then, he wasn’t clean enough. She said his freakishness was a stain that went deeper than his skin. But this bath was warm and nice, and a duck was floating in front of him near his lap. So, Harry smiled and idly tapped the duck in front of him to make it swim around.

Death was working through his own musings. _Fury furyfury like he’d never know._ Long fingers massaged shampoo into those curls to get the gunk and blood out of them. _String them up by their intestines, they’d beg for it to stop. Scream for it. But he wouldn’t. They never stopped when H a r r y begged and c r i e d._

Snapping back, he made sure his hands stayed gentle and slow. Rinsing out the shampoo and beginning to work in conditioner. Harry’s hair was dry, frizzy and dead from neglect and harsh treatment. It was going to take some work to get his sweet little boy into looking like the healthy dashing mini wizard he was.

Luckily, his baby was more than cooperative. Patiently sitting and playing with his duck as Death scrubbed him clean and pampered his hair. Finishing with a leave in conditioner before he pulled the drain stop and lifted Harry out of the tub. Wrapping him in a fluffy towel and blowing a raspberry on his cheek just to get a smile and a grin.

“Blue or red?” Harry blinked at him with wide green eyes.

“Blue?”

Death snapped his fingers and the towel around him shifted into soft blue pajamas that were so warm. Harry marveled at the soft material and grinned up at his savior. Until a yawn forced his mouth open and his eyes to droop without his consent. The tall man tutted at him fondly and shifted him to hold onto him as they walked out of the bathroom. Leaving his glasses behind.

Harry couldn’t remember a time where he’d been held or carried. Yet, he’d been coddled and bathed, and carried nearly all night by the man holding him now. The feeling was strangely calming, trusting someone to carry him. Weightless almost. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he still watched with interest as they walked into a different room down the hall and the plaque on the door changed before Harry’s eyes.

_Guest Room_ , before the letters shifted and curved away, rearranging themselves smoothly into _Harry’s Room._ His room? He’d never had a real room before, Auntie had said the cupboard under the stairs was all a freak like him could hope for. He didn’t deserve anymore than the lumpy bloodstained crib mattress with the spiders and broken army men. Yet, this man didn’t hesitate entering the room and carefully flopping Harry onto the bed in the back of the room.

The walls were cream colored and the furniture was a dark cherrywood, with a desk and a dresser and a bed. There was more room than furniture, which left it feeling rather spacious and empty. There was a window seat with a soft bench built in that looked so cozy to look outside from. It was the best thing Harry had ever laid eyes on.

It was perfect.

Mortem was efficient in sliding the child into the bed and tucking him firmly under the covers. (It was only seven, still early even for a six year old, however injuries (especially head ones) needed time and sleep to heal). Harry looked up with confusion, bright near glowing green doe eyes staring up at him from where the blanket nearly covered his chin.

“I get bed?” _Hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt. He wanted to hurt those monsters until they begged for mercy. Hurt himself for not being able to bring himself further back into the timeline and spare his little master, his baby, his little one, the pain and suffering and heart ache._

“Yes. Your very own bed, in your very own room. It’s a little bare, but we’ll remedy that in a few days you’ll see. I’ll have to get your owl Hedwig, she misses you quite a lot. Her perch can be set up in here. You’ll also be getting a soft rug so you can play here, a chest for your toys and crayons. A few more clothes and necessities as well.” Harry’s eyes sparkled joyously.

“I do? But I’m a freak.” Death smoothed his hand over his little one’s wild curls, still a bit damp on his head.

“No, you aren’t. You are an extraordinary child and a very kind one. Now, good little boys get treats when they are brave. And clean children get nice warm pajamas and bedtime. What do you think kind children get?” Harry gasped.

“What Mortem?”

Death smiled and conjured the softest plushy he could imagine. A pastel brown otter holding a tiny orange starfish with both paws. It reminded him quite a lot of his little boy who looked with big eyes. Hands reverently petting the soft fur. Only letting his fingertips barely brush its surface hesitantly. Firmly, but also kindly. Death pressed the toy into Harry’s arms.

“Kind children get friends and gifts. This is Mia and I’m sure she is absolutely delighted to have met a friend like you. She adores cuddles, you know? Especially at bed time when it gets dark and lonely.” Harry’s eyes bugged out before a fire lit in them and that cute mouth pouted into resolve. Too thin arms wrapping around the toy tightly.

“I won’t let her be lonely. Being alone is sad and scary.” Harry’s eyes drooped again and he yawned adorably into the plushies fur. Small body twisting onto his side while still clutching the toy in a death grip. Death’s knuckle just barely brushed Harry’s baby soft cheek, fondly watching those beautiful eyes blink dazedly and close for longer periods between opening.

“I know you won’t. Now why don’t you and Mia rest and try to get some sleep. We can work on getting you fully feeling better and your head all fixed up in the morning. After breakfast of course.” Death could have gotten up and let him drift off alone, but he felt stuck, hesitant and reluctant to leave. His hand continued petting Harry’s mane and rubbing circles into his small back, ignoring the indents and bumps of spine and exposed ribs he could feel underneath his fingertips. The little ones eyes finally fluttering one last time before his breath deepened and sleep conquered him.

“Lov’ you Daddy.” The slurred voice was the last thing Harry said before he dropped off.

Death’s chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. Warmth and love so overwhelming it hurt. If he couldn’t leave before, it was even harder now. Paranoia that the second he left something would happen and his little one would slip from his grasp. Settling against the headboard, Death decided that perhaps, he’d stay for a little while longer. Just a few more minutes.

Guess he finally knew what it was like to be a parent.


End file.
